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Sure, it's been fun. Tremendous fun. Even mind-blowing fun. But now things were getting out of hand. I'm going to need to put my foot down when I get home. There's no getting around that, as fun as things are, this feels like a failure of The Plan. The Plan gives control, and I don't like having control taken from me. It worries me, like a dog with fleas that are constantly itching, when I'm not the one who has control. People can think what they want - and they often do - but why the fuck shouldn't I have that control?

I stare at the ghostly reflection of myself in the window, half-seeing the rain falling outside. A bone-shaking rumble shudders the glass; the hairs on the back of my neck raise. I'm glad I got in before it started bucketing down. However, like most domesticated animals in the modern age, the weather doesn't mean too much when you're inside, and I have more important things that need my attention.

I give my reflection a once-over, and approve of what I can see. Strong. Handsome. Tanned. Well-heeled. Self-assured. Bright-eyed. Alert. Alive. Hungry. The last is the most important: if you want to succeed, you need to be Hungry. If you have it, you instinctively know how to go after the rest: wealth, power, connections. I have all those now; that's why I'm here, after all. People like me expect to have those things; but then doesn't society expect us to have them?

After all, what does a dog - even a one occasionally wearing human skin - want more than to make his pack happy?

My tie's already straight, but I straighten it just the same: the automatic action lets me centre my mind and calms me about the meeting looming over me, like the dark clouds overhead. My mind turns to The Plan, and the chaos currently worming its way through my life. When you have power, you know when you're starting to lose it, and I can feel the first gentle tugs on my web that are giving me warning signs. They're not too different from another tug - though that one tends to come lower down - when I want to get out of something more than my suit.

I can control myself fine; but nowadays it's getting harder to make sure everyone else is controlling themselves. Too many people with too many needs that want sating: it's satisfying to think about in theory, but it's hard not to think about what might be happening at home while I'm here. That's the problem with The Plan, I suppose: it was only really designed for one.

There's no easy solution, and I find my thoughts going over the same ground in the same way so often I'm surprised there aren't actual paw-prints. I still can't find a break in my logic. Need dictated I get a Rex: someone with a mind of their own - otherwise, I knew from risk-free experimentation, things got boring fast - but who were still eager to put themselves completely into my power; someone who could help me let loose after a hard day or week or fortnight; someone who would be up for most things without question; someone who knew what it was to keep a very big secret. These properties all had to be in a package that looked nice as well: blinding obedience in rippling muscle and, once I was done with them, a nice fur coat. I finally managed to get The Rex: the hunt had been fun, and the reward had been one very juicy steak.

The problem is, sometimes you hunger for things other than steak, and sometimes the deer just jumps right in front of the wolf, waiting to get eaten. Rocket was like an impulse purchase: his inner dog was howling at mine, so hungry and eager to be let out that I couldn't say no. Rocket helped to scratch a whole bunch of itches, and dogs get itches all the time. Ever since the time I caught him Not-Noticing me, we've been seeing to those itches.

You can't train a dog one way, though, and expect him to act different. That's why I couldn't reasonably have said "no" to Rocket going after his own playmate, even though it was a bit iffy and a guy living at home with his parents wouldn't have been the kind of pick I would made. Certainly, Farmboy was a great fit to the pack, but how long until he loses control and suddenly that repressed daddy fantasy he's secretly harbouring might turn into the real thing? There was also the awful nagging doubt: was I feeling against this because, despite me having run that way countless times before Rocket came on the scene, he was the one who sniffed out Farmboy? Maybe I thought he should have been my pick.

We couldn't stop there, though: since Rocket had his own playmate, it didn't seem fair to say no to Rex, who had been with me longer. Although the greedy fuck had taken two, and had been working on them for months. I'm all for variety, but six feels too wide a circle to keep secret, and it's making my house a little more cramped than it's felt like for quite some time. How long until Butch and Max slip out of my paws and start up their own pack, or try and screw it up badly through their inexperience and the combination of feeding off of each other's hormones constantly and their deep bond?

My eyes narrow: I can just about see the golden fuzz start to speckle my cheeks. I force myself to calm down, breathing in slowly as I heel my inner animal. This is all a problem for another time; right now I need to retain control and focus on my strategy for the upcoming meeting. If The Plan is failing, then I need something to be going right.

That's when I catch the scent.

It's faint because of the rain, and because human mode tends to dull the senses a little, but it's there, just on the edge of my nostril. I haven't smelled it for quite some time, but it's one that I know very well. Decades of memories flash through my brain. A predatory grin creeps across my face: the Handsome Charm Smile that's as much of my uniform as my suit and tie, even though it's not necessarily pleasant or genuine, but in this case it might be. With a little wariness, of course.

My nose twitches; has it really been that long?

I start to walk quietly and unobtrusively, my black shoes gliding across the floor silently as I spot him out of the corner of my eye. He hasn't acted on the sight of me, yet; which makes sense, since he's distracted by the small knot of similarly-besuited guys walking around him. I walk behind one of the pillars, just keeping out of his view. I want to be the one to surprise him: early advantages are always helpful when you're negotiating. I hope he hasn't seen me - I make my movement seem natural and effortless - as I hear his continental brogues traipse across the floor tiles, getting louder as he approaches. I catch the startled change in his pupils when I step around the corner, right on time. "Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in?"

First point to me, Leo.

He's surprised by the interruption, but he recovers quickly, his own Handsome Charm Smile turning up to full wattage. I know what he's going to say: like most long-term friendships - or whatever passes for them for people like us - there's a comfort to the routine. "You son of a bitch!" he answers, our arms extending in practised motions to grip and shake the other's offered hand. I detect a French lilt in his tongue. The handshake turns into a friendly, but not too friendly, hug. I tilt my head, to drink in his cologne. No wonder I couldn't smell him before, he must be bathing in the stuff. Still, it's high-quality, so I know he's been looking after himself pretty well.

As polite as ever, Leo introduces me to his associates. This is a professional encounter, so we address each other by our human names. Fortunately, after many years we're very used to switching between the two as the situation changes. Still, the name I use for business just feels wrong coming out of his mouth; we know each other so intimately. At least, we used to. Although it's been some time, Leo probably still knows me better than everyone else. My work colleagues, even the close ones, know little about the real me for obvious reasons, but he knows parts of me that my pack might never know.

There's four junior associates from his firm amongst them, and my eyes go back to Leo as I shake the hands of each one. I just want to let him know that I know: apparently I'm not the only one having problems sticking to The Plan lately. I know they each have other names - probably ones that he's given them himself - that have been left unspoken, but their human names have a familiar ring to them. Leo was always a snob; it would make sense for him to plunder wealthy families for more than just their wealth. I can easily see him snapping up one wayward son here, one there. Even as a teenager, Leo had the same fatherly magnetism that had only been enhanced with age. He was almost old enough now to start pulling it off. No wonder he was doing well: my nose was practically swimming in his respectable, authoritative pheromones.

Wrapping up the brief first round of introductions, I manage to extricate myself. I have a meeting to attend.

That passes quickly: I'm relieved to see that neither Leo nor any of his recent acquisitions appear. Leo is the kind of guy who could get off on fucking you over just as easily as he could naked on a bear-skin rug. I half-expected him to make a grand entrance through the door, or be sitting there smugly when I arrive.

My phone buzzes in my pocket the moment I get out of the elevator. "Lucky I saw your name on someone's schedule, I almost introduced you as Hunter."

Fuck. One point to you, Leo.

"Funny. A guy with a dick as small as yours ought to watch where he's pissing."

Okay, it's not my best line.

We catch up slowly over the course of the day, sniffing each other out via text message. My senses seem to heighten: my body's innately aware that if Leo's in town, I want to know about it as soon as possible, regardless of whether it's professional or personal. He is, however, just as fucking coy as I remember, as well as aggravatingly cryptic. I spend way too long thinking about what he means by his latest message. "I heard you've been busy."

"Always." I finally answer. The process of catching up is slow, slotting them into one of the many brief spots of quiet that appear in my rapidly-changing schedule. The time it takes to walk from one meeting room to the next, or during a cab ride, or like now when I'm in the men's room, standing in front of a toilet: the offices that I've just been in are too upmarket for urinals. By the time I've pressed "send", another message has just arrived.

"Heard some interesting stories about your extracurriculars."

I lick my lips. The sound of my urine splashing into the toilet bowl gets muffled by my headphones: music helps me to focus, and it's easier to hear when people call. I don't usually wear them when I'm in the bathroom - it's useful, sometimes, to keep ones powerful ears out in a men's room, since some people have impromptu meetings there - but right now I need to focus my mind through all the years of subtle references, in-jokes and allusions. I grin: it's just like being back at school.

The next message to arrive is more illuminating. "Been thinking about arranging a little game while I'm in town, see what you've got."

I grin: oho boys, now we're getting somewhere! The message hovers in front of my eyes as I wash my hands thoroughly, letting myself take a short break to think of what I want to say in my response, and what I really want to tell him.

"Extracurriculars." Plural. That means he knows something about the not-so-little pack I've been accumulating. I know he already knows about the gym I own, and I've already introduced him to Rex. That means he knows of at least one more of the people in my pack. Possibly all of them, but most likely the newest two members if he's been keeping his eyes on the gym. I can feel my eyes start to sparkle: I know what I'm going to say.

"Maybe a little five-a-side game might be fun?"

I know he's got at least that many on his "team" since I ran into them earlier. If I made him think I had five as well, then he might be surprised when a pack of six turned up. The reply comes quickly.

"We're up to it. How about tonight? Sometime late, after we've digested dinner?"

I grin, perhaps a little too wolfishly: my hearts pumping adrenalin all through my system now, and I can feel the golden fur starting to bristle against my clothes in anticipation. Between my expanding pack and now Leo reappearing, it's getting harder to keep control. At least I have some privacy in the men's room, but they're always dangerous places to linger: private, warm, filled with smells that pull at the nose, and all that's before the memories flood back of all the secret meetings in stalls like this that I've had through the years. I feel all stirred up.

Leo, I know, is still waiting for my reply. I centre myself for a moment, finishing cleaning up and heading out to make sure I had a clear head first. My eyes were still sparkling. But I needed to prepare.

"Let's meet at the gym. Be there about eleven. A resourceful guy like you should know where it is."

Once I send that message off, I start making calls in between my normally-scheduled human activities. Farmboy is first: he's got the farthest to travel, and he's the only one still living with his parents. I have to call the landline, which risks having one of them pick it up, but luck's on my side and I hear his voice on the other end. "Hello?"

"Farmboy," I say, hearing him suppress a squeal of excitement. Just for a moment, I let the fur out a bit, sliding a button open in my shirt and running my hand over my chest, feeling the bristles underneath my fingers. "Can you be at the gym at, say, ten thirty?"

"That's pretty late, and there's a lot of chores to do tomorrow."

I frown: sure, I can get my hands on five other guys, but I'd rather not be down one option. "Look, Farmboy, if they need distracting, I can put them up in a nice hotel room for the evening or something like that."

"Some of these chores can't be put off..."

"Roll over, Farmboy."

Yeah, I know it's a dick move, but right now I need to give a good tug on the leash. Residual sexual energy pulses through the air. Even though we're miles apart I can almost feel the heat emanating off of his crotch as his thick cock protrudes out of a pair of hastily-lowered tracksuit pants, the fabric already musky and sticky with pre-cum because I caught him off-guard. I do hear him moan, and the other sounds fill my head with visions of him standing next to the phone, hand sliding along his rigid erection. I wonder just how much I've got him to transform; it dawns on me the little bastard might be wearing his collar, giving me another set of problems, but it's too late to worry about that now. Full speed ahead.

It's not like I get off scot-free either. Our connection and my imagination brings me to full mast, the veins in my shaft pumping as the flesh starts to redden and the head start to poke out a bit as I let the dog off his leash a bit more. It's not all Farmboy though: meeting Leo's got me feeling very pent up, and my mind's constantly drifting to the evening activity looming on my calendar.

I'll give Farmboy one thing: he's pretty resilient. "I'll see what I can do, but..."

"Butts are for fucking," I finish for him, then hang up.

I get myself under control: at least just enough that I can make it through the next set of meetings, though it means making some sartorial adjustments to hide the bulging outline of my cock. I don't mind showing it off normally, but there's a difference between having it out and looking like you can't control yourself.

I text Butch and Max. "Come to work 10:30 tonight. Special fun arranged." It doesn't take long before I get a pair of replies. "Great!" and "C U there" buzz onto my phone; I don't see them come in, but they're there when I next get a chance to check my phone. Thank fuck you can rely on the horny curiosity of two freshly-minted dog guys.

Rocket next; I call him, since I need to make sure he pressures Farmboy into attendance. "Hi Rocket," I growl into the phone, my hand sliding along my neck, feeling the golden hairs sneaking out. "I'm getting the guys together for some fun at the gym tonight. Can you get in touch with Farmboy and make sure he..." I'm about to say "make sure he comes", but that might be misconstrued. "Make sure he's there, can you do that?"

"I'll do my best," Rocket answers doubtfully, "but it's during the week, and..."

"Nice speaking, Rocket," I say, hanging up. Nasty, sneaking in that command like that, but fuck it. I need them just as worked up as I am, primed to go off tonight. I shudder, feeling the stub of a partially-grown tail strain my underpants even further. It's hard keeping the dog down, but I've had a lot more practice than the others.

It's almost five by the time I get to talk to Rex. My job isn't the punch-clock kind, so I've still got some meetings, but those are more intimate affairs talking to people in bars, clubs or in the foyer of a concert hall. He deserves a call too, though I tell him more with less. "Hi Rex," I say when he picks up, "Leo's in town again. We're meeting at the gym. You too. Can you make sure it's clear by half past ten?"

Is it his heart that I hear pounding, or my own body going haywire? I don't know, since I'm distracted when Rex surprises me. "Are... are you sure that's wise?"

Disobedience? From Rex? This time it's definitely my heart that starts thudding around as I start to feel my blood boil. "Any wiser than bringing in two horny Russian brothers?"

"They're Polish."

"I don't care if they were fucking Chinese, we don't have enough control over them." I duck back into the nearest men's room: I don't want people seeing me getting angry.

I hear him grunt on the other line. It's kind of funny: Rex, being annoyed at me! "I don't remember you turning down your chance at them." There's a pause, as the music coming down from his end quietens down; I guess he's working on the gym floor, and is ducking into the stairwell. "Hunter, look, you know me: I will do whatever you want me to do. But, at least as your friend, I need to tell you that I don't like it when Leo's around."

"Aw, is my big puppy jealous?"

Rex is apparently in no mood for light teasing. He responds, everything coming out sharp and aggressive. "No, I just don't like him, and I don't like you when he's around. You are the one who starts acting like a lovesick puppy. I'll bet this is his idea, and you're just - "

I hang up. At least I probably do; it's hard to tell, since I snap the phone with my hand, my sleeve unbuttoning as a sudden burst of transformation turns my hand into a thick, clawed half-paw. I quickly lock the door, letting the phone's remnants fall on the ground.

Everything else happens in a blur. My pants go down around my ankles, the tailored pants and comfortable boxers bunching up together. The latter has fortunately saved the former from being stained by the dripping red canine cock bobbing in the air. I nearly tear through my shirt - thanks a lot, Rex - as I race to unbutton it. My tail curls around the toilet seat, bursting out with a flourish. Golden hair spills across what would otherwise be exposed skin.

My muzzle pushes out of my face as I pant. I don't want to touch myself. I want to save it for tonight. But it's so tempting. I grab the toilet roll, my claws shredding the paper as I pant. I hope I'm not too loud, but I can't judge that since my ears are filled with the sounds of my pounding heart and my roaring anger.

Oh boy, Rex is going to be in the doghouse after this.

I let myself almost completely transform, turning into a big drooling dog-man right out in public. Then I slowly work myself down, savouring each thought of what I was going to do to my errant little pack member. My chest is sticky and smells of pre-cum, but far less hairy by the time I use what remains of the roll in my hands to clean myself off. I manage to get myself presentable, then head out for the rest of my work day, which is starting to feel extra long. I want to be irritable. I want to just drag some young, hot thing into a back alley and fuck him until we're both howling. But that has to wait for tonight.

Instead I play the charming, persuasive human male. I go to my meetings. I shake hands. I bring contracts. I make potential clients feel good. Really, a lot of my job feels a lot like being a dog. That's probably why I'm so fucking good at it. I even manage to ignore Leo and Rex and the whole shitshow my private life has turned into long enough to get through a dinner with the higher-ups. I'm working on getting a promotion, and dinner with the bosses is definitely a prerequisite.

The food helps with one hunger, but the wine stirs up the other. I decline dessert, and turn down the offer of an after-dinner cigar. In part because I can't stand the smell - though I spin it as wanting to watch my health, which is easy for people to buy - and in part because there's other long, hard things I'd prefer to have between my lips right now. "I had a great evening," I explain, "but I've got company from overseas coming over." I drop Leo's name, and give the family-friendly version of how we met at school, and on hosting him and some friends over. I'm gambling that nobody else will invite themselves over, but as the guest list is all male and some things left unsaid are still known - namely who I want to fuck - they're quite willing to steer clear.

Then I'm free, sliding into a taxi with the remains of the wine I had at dinner still buzzing in my head. I don't give him the address of the gym, instead giving the address of a fancy hotel that's within walking distance. I give a large tip, then walk up into the hotel. I pretend to have forgotten something as soon as I hear the taxi has disappeared, and dash out, as though I'm trying to catch up to it.

Instead, I keep running.

Obviously I'm a very fit guy - and with a lot of young pups around, I need the extra boost that gives to keep up with them in the bedroom - so I run. I love it, though: the way it makes my muscles move and jiggle, the way it burns through me. The only thing that beats it is swimming, which aside from being an all-round great exercise, it has the bonus of letting you be ultra-competitive against a lot of hot, young guys in very tight swimwear. You can't swim in a suit, though; running in a suit is something that I find weird but enjoyable. A bit like fucking in a suit: you're not supposed to, since it can ruin the clothing, but that just adds something to it.

Even though I'm in shape, I'm panting and sweating by the time I get to the gym. I look around the cars, and give the air a sniff as I slowly ease out the animal I've been keeping in all evening. All my boys are here, and unless they're lurking out there in the dark - which I wouldn't put past Leo doing - none of the others have arrived. I hope they're bad at counting, as I walk to the door.

Rex, as always, is there to let me in. It's pitch-black inside, other than the light coming from the men's changing room. There's laughter oozing out of there, along with that great funky smell, which gets my heart pumping even faster. I can smell the nervous excitement: tonight's going to surprise a lot of people.

I see Rex is going sans collar. I still want to tear his throat out, but who can resist that smell of a big old muscular bitch after a sweaty day at the gym. He throws me my collar, and reiterates his earlier feelings as I glare at him. "This is a mistake."

I put my collar on before I answer him, sliding into the shadows as I slip out of my clothes en route to the men's changing room. "You think I'm thinking with my dick?" I ask, my voice turning into a husk growl that rolls out of my lips as I work off my shoes. "What do you think Rocket was doing when he decided he wanted to go after someone still living at home, or you going after two brothers? I've been worrying about everything you've been, and more, in between earning enough money so we've got a house with a nice backyard and privacy, and a gym half of you can work in that won't ask questions if you want to knot each other in there after closing time?"

Rex never likes it when I throw that bit of trivia into his face. I don't like doing it either, but I've got to put my foot down before things explode out of control. Rex grunts out, "Sorry." He's not at all - I've known him long enough to tell that straight away - but I just thought it might be nice to share the wealth from my worry pit for a while.

"Besides," I add, flashing him some slowly sharpening teeth, "I can handle Leo. I have been since I was a dumb kid. When he was a dumb kid, even though I thought he was the shit back then. What I can't do is fuck the shit out of him and his crew at the same time."

I'm glad I kept that last bit of info to myself: I definitely wanted to see the surprise on Rex's face. "His crew? Are you sure? Leo doesn't strike me as a pack animal."

"You haven't known him as long as I have." I'm feeling a bit better after laying into Rex. I chuck the shirt into the bit, showing off the thick golden chest I've worked hard on. "Keep an eye out, I'm expecting them along soon. Oh, and don't let on that there's six of us. I've got a nice little surprise waiting in store."

Rex stares at me; I can tell he's trying to figure things out. It's impossible: I think even Leo and I have problems keeping up with what's going on between the two of us, and we've been there from the start. Two horny little boys at a posh school, the older one finding out the younger was going through a more aggressive kind of puberty-induced change and deciding to explore some stuff safely together. But enough about the past, my body's primed and pumped for future fun.

It doesn't surprise me when I slide out of my boxers that they're a mess. I throw them away too. It's not the only time I've ruined a set of expensive clothes because of Leo, but the last time was many years ago, when a messy encounter at school led to embarrassed parents, torment until well after graduation, and - for me anyway - doing a whole fuckload of chores to make up for the expense of having to get a new school uniform.

Hmm. Maybe I should schedule in a lunch meeting with Leo and "revisit old territory"?

I bound into the men's changing rooms. All the pack is here, and as they undress and shower and casually grope and play with each other, the school parallels hit me hard: here I am, coming in with the rugby team to clean off after the big game, buff young men in the buff letting everything hang out naturally, me chock-ful of insatiable hormones almost clawing at myself as I have to wait for Leo to turn up so I have an outlet.

Even though the showers are running hot, and the room's filled with steam, I can smell their potent musk. Some of them have been here a while, agonisingly waiting like good little pups and not fucking each other before the evening's scheduled match. I can smell the spunk trapped in their balls, aching to be let out, just like their fur and claws and fangs. I lick my lips with my tongue, as both slowly stretch out.

They notice me, and it's like a lot of the fantasies I had at school of being surrounded by hot, fit guys. All their collars are on: I can see their interest in me is not altruistic. "Hey guys," I assure them, letting them shower me with hugs and likes and gropes and the occasional butt-sniff. "The fun's on the way. You guys just have to hold out a bit more."

"Why do you change, then?" Butch asks. He and Max have been working on their English, but they still talk like they're chugging on vodka bottles.

"Because I've already had to wait all day." I smile, but just with my lips. My eyes stare him down. "And I've been doing this longer than all of you put together. I know how to control myself. Believe me, you're going to have a great night. I just don't want you to spoil it prematurely." Like a little kid is what I'd like to add, but I can tell everyone's all hyped up. Testosterone's buzzing around, just like before a match at school. "All we need is a big fucking silver cup."

I don't realise I've spoken aloud until Rocket chips in. "What did you say? Silver cup?"

I laugh. "Nothing. Sorry, it's just that one of the guys coming over tonight - Leo - is an old friend from school days. He and I go way back. Before Rex, and then the rest of you, he was the only... well, you'll see."

I'm anxious. I can always tell, since I start babbling. I do it so rarely that it's very noticeable. I turn my attention to other matters. "While we're all here, I thought I'd say a couple of things: Butch, Max, I want you to move into the house with us. You'll run into less problems if you have a safe outlet that's got a few walls in between you and the neighbours. I don't want to have to deal with landlords complaining about dog noises and certain odours if at all possible. Let's do it this weekend; I'll cover your rent until your lease is up."

Butch and Max look at each other. I already know they've been getting complaints and loud knocks on their door. I've been the "concerned neighbour" leaving anonymous hints. I've had enough embarrassing escapades of my own, and I'd rather spare everyone the difficulties that can occur.

"Also, Farmboy, I'd really prefer if you moved in too, but I know you're sort of a special case. All the same, I think it would be safer if you were with us." And not your father. There's enough incest going on here to add any more into the mix. "And since there's so many of us now, I think that maybe it's time we moved out into the country. So, Farmboy, I want you to use those good nose of yours and ferret out any farms in your neck of the wood that might be coming up for sale. Anyone with money troubles, any farmers with no kids interested in carrying on." Any hot farmers that I can introduce to some animal anatomy.

Nobody gets a chance to answer: for once, Leo's shown impeccable timing. I can hear him coming in; I recognise the way he walks, and since his little clones are trying to be just like him, it's five sets of footsteps coming our way.

No more fucking around: time to fuck around. "Rocket, speak! Farmboy, roll over! Butch? Max? Fight!" I don't need a fetch tonight: the residual excitement pouring off of them as their transformations race like greyhounds out of the gate and my anticipation carry me along.

I shudder, the fur bursting out where it had been sedately stretching, claws curling and sharpening where fingernails and toenails had been stretching and darkening slowly moments ago. My nose bursts into life, and my ears ring with enhanced sound.

I hear the door open, air rushing through. "Hello again, Rex," Leo says, his odour slicing like an intruding spotlight through the pleasingly familiar scent of my pack. All around me, I can feel the heat of transformation: cocks swell and throb redder, knots forming and waiting to swell into use. Balls growing even thicker with hot dog-man cum in the five pairs of balls churning in the room. Growls and moans escape as they grip benches and slide on the floor, their flesh rapidly twisting and giving way to black, white and brown fur. Muscles flex and twitch.

Fuck. I do have problems with them sometimes, but my pack is fucking hot!

"Sounds like the show's already underway." I can hear Leo sniff at Rex, who's shown surprising restraint. "Well, it'll be nice to get reacquainted. I'll save my introductions until we're all ready to go. I'd ask, but I know that son of a bitch too well, and a deaf bat could follow that trail." He didn't seem to speak to the other men with him: whatever they were to Leo out in the "real world", they were his obedient servants in this realm.

Oh shit. I haven't figured out how I want to look when he comes in. I quickly wave my paw around. "Everyone stand behind me! Hunter, you in the middle with Butch and Max on either side; Farmboy, you sit up front with me." There. I've kept all the dangerous pairings apart for a little while. My fangs flash: Just stick a plaque in front of us, and some uniforms and we're posing for a school photo.

"Well, hello, Hunter," Leo says, stepping around the corner. We only all just get into position in time. Everyone's still panting from the change. Heat is pouring out of Rocket's massive cock. I moved in front, because I wanted to save a bit of the surprise. "I see you've decided to cheat as usual and bring six boys to a five-a-side match."

God, he looks good in a suit. He looks even better taking it off. He snaps a finger, and his crew shift out to various lockers to start putting away their designer outfits. "We can decide who's playing later. I expected Rex might want to play guard dog tonight, anyway." I get up, sliding my hand underneath his shirt. "I seem to remember when you weren't such a pansy about getting your clothes messed up, Leo."

"I'm sorry," Leo laughs. "I don't think you get to call me a pansy, considering how much you were begging for my cock back at school."

I smirk, tilting my head over to my pet husky. "That puny little thing? Probably because you were born a creepy old man, who took advantage of your fag, who didn't know any better."

Leo looked at Rocket. It was plain he'd never seen a cock that big before, but it didn't put him off his stride. "So when I fuck you," Leo asked, "is it going to be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway?"

"Oh Leo!" I slap him on the back, making sure to kiss him just a little with my claws. "With you, it's always been a hot dog down a hallway."

Leo explodes with laughter, and - to my surprise - he actually hugs me. "Fuckboy, I have missed the shit out of you. I see you've been keeping very busy. Nice little collection."

"Jealous?" I grin. It doesn't matter what happens tonight. I've won this round.

"Only if you haven't learned to share your toys," Leo chuckles, reaching down and giving my balls a squeeze. I can smell it then. His change has started. I glance over at him, seeing the tawny golden fur start to prickle out of his skin, see the sinews of his muscle start to thicken as his arms twitch from the change.

"They'll be plenty of time for that tonight," I brag.